


The same tale told twice

by saderaladon



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chapter One:, Chapter Two:, Drinking, Drug Addiction, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Rating: PG13, Ratings: R, Recreational Drug Use, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saderaladon/pseuds/saderaladon
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.
Relationships: Ginger Fish/Tim Sköld
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. :)
> 
> So we were having a chat with my spiritual brother about UST as a genre and its application to the character of Ginger Fish, and then when I woke up my brother's text was already awaiting me and I decided to pay him back with literature too.
> 
> These are our takes on that concept we were discussing which I've translated into English.
> 
> Original text one: https://ficbook.net/readfic/8947919  
> Original text two: https://ficbook.net/readfic/8948621
> 
> Enjoy, if this is your thing. :)
> 
> Not a single person depicted here belongs to me, I just like to have engaging chats till it's five in the morning.

Tim studies Ginger from the very first day, the very moment they met each other. Something in Ginger pulls him in, intrigues him. He wants to be friends with him and he tries to, but doesn't get much further than having lunch together, even when he becomes a permanent part of the band.

When they sit next to each other, chewing on something, usually Tim is the one who's doing all the talking, and he doesn't know what to say, he thinks he talks about utter nonsense, and this is a new thought for him. He doesn't remember feeling that awkward ever before. At first he doesn't even understand why he feels like that, but then gradually realizes what the reason might be. It doesn't help him much. Things get even harder, much more so, and he cuts down on his attempts to make friends with Ginger, because friendship is not what he needs, he needs something else. It is unlikely he will ever get it, but it is possible that he'll offend him accidentally, and it is better to avoid temptation.

It's better not to think.

Not that he can stop thinking.

He's standing in the shower one day, cool water running down his body. He's trying to relieve the tension, using the most trustworthy and, probably, the most ancient way of dealing with it. He thinks of Ginger's lazy-eyed face against his own will and comes almost immediately, drowning in various emotions, the most prominent of which is shame.

And remorse.

The tension doesn't go away and even grows stronger, so in the end he takes a sleeping pill.

Then it becomes a habit, and he makes a pact with himself, a pact that he should've signed with blood, were it a real thing written on paper.

He allows himself imagining things.

It isn't generous, he has his boundaries, he spent a lot of time building them and did his job well enough, so his phantasies are pretty discreet. The most courageous one he permits himself is picturing Ginger sucking him off.

He slumps down, once that phantasy brings him to the desired goal, and it's only by a miracle that he doesn't crack his dumb head open on the side of the tub, because his legs just give out on him. He spends ten more minutes simply sitting there, eyes wet, without noticing the tears. His head is empty as the bass drum.

Then a strange thing happens at an afterparty. Afterparties are a part of his life, almost a part of his job, something those who aren't in show business can't easily understand. But usually he could relax a bit during the afterparties, and that's exactly what he tries to do. Booze and a dark corner go hand in hand with relaxation. What doesn't go hand in hand with it is Ginger, who seems to live in those dark corners. But Tim doesn't have much choice, so he decides that nothing's going to happen, because he isn't crazy enough to purposely avoid somebody.

It turns out, that after drinking several shots of something strong he's crazy enough to think that Ginger has very appealing lips. A few more shots later Tim's head is visited by another idea: Ginger's drunk as well. Then one more shot - the one he shouldn't have downed - and Tim moves closer to him, leans in and kisses him, and then vanishes with the speed of a bullet fired at a random target.

Ginger thinks, not without a certain pity, that Tim must have mistaken him for somebody else, and that is why he ran away, so there're no consequences to the strange thing that happens at that afterparty. Apart from Tim's various emotions, because now he can't relax at all. It is one thing to just imagine stuff. Now he learned the real taste of what he wants.

Then Tim meets Mia. She asks him for an autograph and he looks at her, in passing, just as usual, but something makes him look at her again, makes him ask her if she's busy, ask her if she wants to have some fun tonight. She accepts his offer, of course. She ends up in his bed. Not the best idea, but... She looks so much like Ginger and, unlike him, she is available. Tim doesn't have enough will power to stop. Or enough motivation.

Mia smiles at him, leaving his room, smiles with compassion, kindly, and he feels likes a stray kitten.

"Tell him."

"What... Whom?"

"Ginger. I have a mirror, Tim. I know how I look. And the name you've just been calling me isn't mine. I am not sure you even remember mine. So tell him."

"I can't," Tim surrenders without fighting, staring in her huge lazy eyes that look so much like Ginger's. There was no spite in her voice, just concern for his well-being. "He won't..."

He won't understand.

"It's better to regret doing something than regret doing nothing, and you know that. It's just a suggestion."

She leaves, closing the door behind herself quietly, and Tim stays there with her unwarranted suggestion and her name he does remember - maybe because of this short chat they have.

Ginger also meets somebody, and he doesn't look like Tim, but his ridiculous haircut is similar to Tim's and his accent too. The guy has no idea who Ginger is and he doesn't need to, he just wants to have some fun, and Ginger simply was close enough, luckily or not.

Ginger says they can go anywhere and do anything, apart from the things that are illegal. But he refuses to kiss, offering the guy an incoherent explanation.

He likes the end result, but he has a feeling that he can't quite shake off that it is a substitute, like soy meat or sweets for diabetics. Whole grain bars with fructose, a substitute for something real, but something less safe than sugar. He doesn't get any unwarranted suggestions, well, apart from a small tip to finally believe that he's attractive and to stop trying to hide it. He thinks the guy says that only because it's dark around them and falls asleep without taking any pills.

Unlike Tim.

For Tim pills become a habit too, because he needs to function effectively, and to achieve that he has to sleep, even though it is chemically induced, and also working helps him to avoid the thoughts.

It is this habit that has consequences or side-effects or...

It's written on the package that you cannot drink booze while taking those pills, and Tim has read this sentence many times. It's just he's been taking those pills for so long now. That's why he pays no attention to it. That's why he ends up near the toilet again, hugging it, that's why he doesn't close the door, that's why he faints.

It's Ginger who finds him and brings him back to consciousness, and this, this can't be blamed on Tim's disregard of the warning on the package of the sleeping pills. Things Tim then tells him also can't be easily explained, can't be explained at all, he just starts talking, maybe because he doesn't feel very well, maybe because he's tired of suffering on his own, or maybe because he decides to follow that unwarranted suggestion of that impossible woman who has a mirror and sees something unbearable in it every day.

"You know," he says, quirking his lips, the taste of bile on his tongue. "I once slept with a woman who looked exactly like you. As if she were your twin. That's why I slept with her."

Ginger shivers and doesn't respond, he doesn't know how, but stays where he was, keeps sitting on the floor with Tim next to the toilet.

"And I said you name while I was with her. She told me that. Maybe it even was your _legal_ name."

Ginger's mouth immediately falls agape, but he still doesn't leave, so Tim gets an opportunity to say a few more unnerving things, and he doesn't even think of passing it up.

"She gave me some advice," he chuckles, bitter. "Told me it's better to regret doing something than—"

"Than regret doing nothing," Ginger finishes Tim's phrase instead of him without thinking, leans in and kisses him, and Tim gets lost in space entirely.

They both get lost in space.

They kiss like teenagers, sitting on the floor next to the toilet, and maybe later they will have regrets, but they don't have any now, so that is something.

Tim falls asleep without taking pills that night and he doesn't fall asleep alone, and that, that is something good.

______________________________________________________________________________________


	2. Moron

"Fuck me sideways," Tim says, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

***

Tim thinks Ginger's cute from the very beginning. Right from the day they meet for the first time. And then right from the day Tim becomes a permanent part of the band.

He turns Tim's head for some reason. And Tim turns towards him and clings to him with his eyes.

Exactly one week after Tim joins the band he comes onto Ginger at the afterparty, having munched on various illegal substances first. Not to build up the nerve, just because, he chews on those substances all the time, and this is an afterparty, afterparties are _meant_ for that.

Tim comes onto Ginger and receives fuck knows what in response. Well, probably, it is a "no", because after Tim makes his move he doesn't get to cling to Ginger with his hands, arms, lower limbs and teeth, he just stands there, swaying, and follows him going away with his eyes.

The next morning he traces his trajectory towards him, still swaying, and Ginger comes closer to him and says something about those substances Tim indulged in at the afterparty and asks him if he feels alright, because yesterday he looked like he was feeling kind of sick.

Tim didn't feel kind of sick, Tim felt fucking amazing, and he is highly functional in a state like that, always has and always will be.

A week later he plays the show, having munched on the double amount of the same - most likely - substances, and two weeks later he comes onto John, utilizing the same arsenal: several lewd jokes, a charming smile and his friendly hand on John's shoulder and then on some other body parts too, because John responds with enthusiastic consent, a ban outlawing clinging to him with teeth and a question.

"What took you so long?" John asks him.

Ginger doesn't ask him almost anything.

So Tim questions himself, wondering why his tactics failed and what went wrong. He doesn't forget to utilize his seductive arsenal either, persistent, but enjoying no success.

 _Ginger doesn't fuck guys_ , he decides with a certain degree of disappointment, but soon learns that he was wrong and Ginger does fuck guys. For example, he fucked John, which John himself tells him in passing. However, that happened a long time ago.

But Ginger also fucked a guy from one afterparty. Well, Tim didn't stand witness to the act, but while Ginger and that guy were still at the afterparty it looked very much like they were heading in that direction.

 _Ginger does fuck guys, but Tim Skold personally is not his type_ , he decides with a certain degree of indignation.

That this highly improbable version is also untrue is proven to him by Ginger himself. By Ginger himself, who bestows compliments on him as if Tim paid for them, when in reality Tim is the one who fishes for them, striking up conversations about his own looks at any opportunity and even when it is completely unwarranted and collecting praise directed at his style, haircut, good shape, skin tone, features and also the way he moves.

 _Ginger does fuck guys and Tim Skold is very much his type, it's just Tim Skold is fucking cursed_ , Tim realizes, turning into ashes with shame at his own behaviour.

Then things become even worse.

Then he turns into ashes with shame every fucking day, awkward and embarrassed. Because of everything. Because of his pathetic begging for flattery. Because of his passes he keeps making from time to time, having munched on illegal substances to build up the nerve. Because of constant invitations to go munch on something edible together, even though them Ginger actually accepts. Because of his yammering fuck knows about what, just verbal bullshit that spills out of him every time Ginger sits next to him, munching on something edible. Because of recurrent bullshit he engages in in the shower.

Of course, Tim jerks off about him.

Fuck knows about what.

He honestly tries to come up with something, well, worth paying attention to, but fails, fails like a fucking loser. The highest peak he reaches is picturing his own rock hard boner right next to Ginger's permanently open mouth. Sucking his aching cock is something both the real and the imaginary Ginger simply refuse to do. And the imaginary one does that while staring at Tim as if he offered something fucking _impossible._

That's why Tim jerks off about mental bullshit.

He spends his days and nights gawping at Ginger, cataloguing visual material. And then he jerks off about it.

About that permanently open mouth of his, for example. About his lazy-eyed face. About his rodent-like front teeth. About his skin tone, that after one day Ginger finally takes off his shirt at the end of the show. For a drummer Ginger wears _criminally_ excessive clothes.

Even about his complete lack of style.

"Fuck me sideways," Tim says, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

He's just rubbed one out, picturing Ginger _rolling up the sleeves_ of his hoodie.

Of course, he jerks off about him. Of course, he is ashamed.

He simply can't help himself.

He's swept off his fucking feet.

***

_Fuck me sideways_ , Tim thinks, staring at his own reflection in the toilet bowl covered in his own bile. _You're exactly the guy I need right now._

This time he is hammered drunk. He's gulped down legal liquids instead of staying faithful to illegal substances. And fuck knows what those liquids were.

Fucking _vomitories_.

Almost half a year has passed since he joined the band, and now he is puking on the floor next to the toilet in Pogo's room, having first gotten himself hammered drunk and having then extorted the keys from Pogo.

Because his own keys are fuck knows where.

Because he is fucking hammered.

And that is where Ginger finds him.

"Tim, are you alright?" he asks, opening the door of the bathroom, voice concerned. "You ran away all green."

 _Fuck me sideways_ , Tim thinks. _You're exactly the guy I need right now._

"I'm puking," he replies.

"Do you need any help?"

This time Tim thinks, and quite spitefully, that he doesn't have enough hair on his head for Ginger to hold it while he vomits, clinging to the toilet with his hands and arms and lower limbs.

He has no idea what else Ginger could do for him. It's not like he's going to vomit too to keep him company.

"Give me your best," he says, and it turns out, that what Ginger can do for him is put his friendly hand on his shoulder, soothing him, entering the bathroom and sitting beside him on the floor next to the toilet.

Tim keeps spewing his guts out.

Then he gets hard. Of course, he gets fucking hard.

"Fuck me sideways," he says and laughs out loud, choking on his own saliva, as if bile wasn't enough. "You gave me a fucking boner."

Then he grabs Ginger's friendly hand and puts it on his rock hard cock.

"You always give me a fucking boner," he says, still laughing, and looks at Ginger's lazy-eyed face.

And the expression Ginger's wearing on his lazy-eyed face is very familiar to Tim. It is the same his imaginary Ginger puts on while staring at his imaginary cock with an open mouth.

An impossible one.

"What?' Tim asks, because Ginger goes red, then white, his lips in a thin line, then quivering, his whole face starting to twitch too and Ginger himself fucking shaking, as if he's about to cry, all the while Tim is pressing his hand into his own very real cock.

"Fuck, Tim," Ginger says, voice also impossible. "Why do you keep mocking me so much? I already fucking got it that I am of no interest to you. I got out of your hair long ago. Why do you keep picking on me? I almost never even talk to you. What do I have to do to make you stop?"

Fuck him sideways.

"Fucking hell," Tim says and smothers Ginger with his stinky yap.

And he does that thoroughly, enthusiastically licking his rodent-like front teeth and his extremely appealing lips. To compensate for the puke his stinky yap tastes of. And for the lost six fucking months. This is what he himself needs compensation for. This and his shameful wanks about rolled up sleeves in the shower. And his theories. That Ginger has psoriasis on every centimeter of his body and is shy because of that. That Ginger thinks _Tim_ has psoriasis on every centimeter of his body. That Ginger's cock is actually an apple tree seedling. That Tim is cursed and Ginger sees him as an actual apple tree seedling.

Tim kisses Ginger with his stinky yap for five minutes straight, restoring the balance in the universe and also pushing in his palm with his rock hard cock, and topping that with moaning in Ginger's mouth.

To make really sure.

Because Ginger is a fucking moron.

"You're a fucking moron," Tim informs him, breaking the kiss, and _impossible_ things again appear on Ginger's wet face.

Several more lost minutes later what seemed impossible becomes reality, and Tim finally supplies his mental storage with visuals that are worth paying attention to.

He lifts himself and Ginger off the floor and makes it to the bed, and sits on it. Ginger sits on the floor between his legs.

"I've spent six fucking months thinking about shoving my cock down your throat," Tim whispers in his ear before that. "I jerk off about you rolling up your fucking sleeves every fucking day."

"Okay," Ginger says, sinking on the floor between his legs. "Alright. I just... I'm not ver—"

"Jesus, shut up," Tim cuts him short, unzipping his pants. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck me off."

Luckily, Ginger sucks him off with an open mouth, and it's no wonder, it's just Tim is hammered drunk, and that's why he's saying fuck knows what.

He's hammered drunk and also swept off his feet.

He stares at the impossible face of the very real Ginger, who's sucking his rock hard cock, and imagines jerking off about it. Without any shame or feeling awkward. Right in front of Ginger. _Describing_ things to him.

The way Ginger closes his big, strange eyes, taking Tim's cock in his mouth, and then opens them right away, when Tim touches his face. His moans, quiet and cautious, and his friendly hands he puts on Tim's thighs. His friendly tongue he licks Tim's cock with. The way he gags quite a few times on Tim's cock Tim shoves deeper down his throat. And then a few more times on his own, pushing himself on it, while Tim thinks they'll definitely vomit in each other's company one day.

Tim himself sucks Ginger off only in the morning, in Ginger's room, which has always been Ginger's, because those were not his own keys that Pogo gave him, because Pogo had also run away all green, because his own keys had been fuck knows where as well.

Tim sucks Ginger off in the morning, the second he wakes up, and he, of course, would've done that in the evening too, but in the evening he simply passes out, right after coming.

And it is Ginger's mouth that he spills in.

And he's not even ashamed that he does that barely after three brief minutes.

It took him way too long in any case.

______________________________________________________________________________


End file.
